


Peace Talks

by cl2y



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Age Difference, Drinking, Gaspard clearly becomes the Emperor as if there was any better choice, M/M, Mentions Celene's death, Mentions Prosper's Death, Minor Violence, Not Beta Read, Qunlat, ie someone has a piss, minor Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-06-10 15:58:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6963415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cl2y/pseuds/cl2y
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Jean-Esmeral single once again, and fully over the death of Duke Prosper de Montfort, he turns to find new and better allies. Entering Halamshiral as a guest of Duke Cyril de Montfort, Jean sets about proving where his new loyalties lie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peace Talks

Grand Duke Gaspard was not hard to find. Remove all the larger groups from sight, take away the dresses, and find the only man armed. Et voilà, Gaspard de Chalons. The guards standing either side of the balcony doors had tensed at his arrival, Jean had a crossbow tied to his thigh, he had surrendered his bolts but he would not leave the weapon behind. Duke Cyril de Montfort had eased the way thankfully, he had invited him after all. But Cyril was old news, and would most likely become an enemy before the night was over. Jean-Esmeral nodded to the guards as he passed, bowing as Gaspard turned to face him.

“Your Radiance.” Jean said, uncurling his back with a smile under his mask.

“I am not Emperor yet, Monsieur.” He hummed, arms folded in front of him, his stance widened. He was in a defensive state, and as Jean approached Gaspard’s arms fell about his waist, but still tense under his tunic.

“ _Yet_ , Your Highness. I have a gift for you, letters to and from a dead man and your gracious cousin,” Jean slipped a few folded papers from under his decorative tabard. “It concerns the actions of certain Qunari. Ben-Hassrath, Tal-Vashoth truly.” Gaspard looked genuinely intrigued from behind his golden mask. He reached for the papers as Jean let his gloved fingers smooth over the Grand Duke’s, a simple enough message.

“If this is true then,” he mumbled as he skimmed over the words quickly, eyes darting back and forth over the faded ink. “This is not as condemning as you say Lord…”

“Apologies, Lord Jean-Esmeral Cireron. With the right testimony, it is damning enough to prove the Empress of Orlais was negotiating with Qunari, which would undoubtedly anger the Tevinters along your border if not the nobles in our homes.”

“And you have such testimony?”

“Ala atot ensaam bas ta vashe-qalab Celene asaara, eba'sala salam'ost, lok.” Jean said, the Qunlat flowing easily off his tongue.

“You have dealt with the Qunari? No?”

“No. My Qunlat is,” Jean rolled his wrist as he thought of the word, “There is no correlation between them. But I will testify against her, have no doubt.” Jean nodded, “I will even testify in Orlesian.” He added with laughter. Gaspard waved the papers at him absent-mindedly.

“Nothing in Orlais ever comes so easily, what is the price for this information?”

“Perhaps you will join me in my room tonight, we can see how easily things in Orlais can come.” He whispered as he bowed closer to the Grand Duke. “Farewell Your Highness. Please enjoy the party, I do hope the peace talks go well.” Jean said in an obnoxiously loud voice. A few guests hovering as close to the balcony as they could turned away as he passed. His heels clacked heavily as he walked the length of the grand ballroom and stepped out into the vestibule. There was wine somewhere, surely.

The evening had passed quickly, the guest list ever expanding as members of the Inquisition crept in, as well as the Chevaliers. Jean had convinced Cyril to attempt to get his crossbow bolts back, he had failed, and Jean questioned why he had even asked the Duke. He was thankful the guards didn’t try to detain his crossbow, almost everyone who had any interest knew why he carried it, and they felt great joy in reminding him. He supposed it was ammunition in the Game against him.

There had been no wine available. Too many nobles had complained about the lack of servants, and the supposedly ever lasting wine had vanished completely. He had danced with a few men and women. Though he was not fortunate enough to dance with Gaspard, though he watched as the man moved with elegant grace across the dance floor, his partner mesmerised in the twists and turns, and the honour of dancing with such a well renowned Chevalier. The dancing had continued for hours, the small band having played song after song after song. The quartet had stood and bowed as the nobles clapped, and they all left for a moments peace as the Empress emerged for her speech. It was unsurprisingly fluent, and grasped at the hearts of the people, a few humming and sighing in approval as she spoke.

His stomach fell as he saw the blood pooling at the front of her dress, Florianne sprouting off how she had helped Gaspard before running into the courtyard. Admittedly Jean hadn’t been of much use as the harlequins attacked, one had landed in front of him from the balcony above, and he was quick to crack his weapon across their painted face. It was luck that an Inquisition guardsman had thrust a sword through his chest, and ran off before Jean could utter his thanks. Still the art of fighting eluded him. He had however, managed to avoid qetting squashed or stabbed by everyone panicking and flailing around. The whole ordeal had been over quickly, the Grand Duke and the Inquisitor stumbling off together to talk leadership before Gaspard emerged victorious, with the Elvhen ambassador lead away by Chevaliers.

The speech had been thrilling, more so the way the Inquisitor and the Emperor drank and toasted each other almost constantly. Jean had passed the couple, his hand sliding along Gaspard’s waist ever so lightly. The man spared a glance under his mask, and Jean had swayed his hips so wonderfully as he left to find his room for the night. Gaspard had no reason to show, after all one could hardly blackmail a dead woman, rendering his information useless.

The room was elegantly decorated. It held the traditional gold and blue of Orlais surrounded by vast amounts of pearl and ivory. They clearly had money to decorate a small guest room in this fashion. Jean stepped over to the small vanity it housed, covered in several bottles of his home brand alcohol. Brandy, wine, aquae lucidius, he hummed as he rolled the bell shaped bottle in hand. He could lock the door, drink the entire bottle and wake up the next morning in whatever state the liquid permitted. He sighed as he placed the bottle pack in it’s crate, it was supposed to be a gift after all. He stripped from his clothes, leaving him in his breeches and boots, and began tugging at their laces. The short knock at the door forced him to retie them lest he look ill presented. He dragged the samite gown over his frame and pinched it closed at his waist.

“Monsieur.” Came the low rumble as Jean pulled back the heavy door.

“Your Radiance, please come in.” Perhaps he still had a reason for accepting the invitation. Jean let the gown fall open, cursing himself for tying his breeches back up. A bit of dishevelment would hardly hinder him.

“I must admit, Esmeral, that I am unsure of how you came across the information you presented earlier.”

“Oh?”

“The de Montfort’s have always been steadfast allies of Celene,” Gaspard crossed the room and sat in one of the high backed chairs. “It made me wonder why you gave it to me instead of my late cousin.”

“The late Duke Prosper was killed because of this deal Celene wanted with the Qunari. I fear to say, but my enemy’s enemies are my friends. Yes?” Jean let the door slip shut as he approached Gaspard, “As to how I got this information? I worked with Prosper for a time. Perhaps ‘under’ is the more accurate word.” Jean hummed, turning away to pluck a few bottles from their crates. Gifts be damned. “A drink? Your Imperial Majesty.” Jean let the gown fall off of one shoulder, letting it rest in the crook of his elbow as he uncorked the aquae lucidius, pouring two tumblers full and trotting back to Gaspard.

“This is?”

“Aquae Licidius, Cireron reared and made.”

“Wyvern venom.” He grunted, swirling the glass in hand. Jean let out a stuttered laugh as he pulled the glass back.

“Offering a man poison on the night of his crowning, I do apologise.” He emptied the two glasses into the chamber pot, returning with the bottle and letting the liquid fill it there as well. “We do not need to drink it to enjoy the aroma, brandy?” Gaspard muttered his acceptance. Jean repeated the actions and gave Gaspard a fresh glass with a fresher drink. “Now this is a delightful brandy, burns and soothes, truly strange, yes?” Gaspard let it soak his tongue before swallowing, a pleasured sigh escaping his lips.

The two men drank in silence mostly. Jean making eyes at Gaspard, and finding ways of letting his gown reveal more and more each time he shifted. He refilled their glasses often, feeling himself flush with the heavy alcohol, and getting braver at each point. He had even let the toe of his boot trail up Gaspard’s calf when he sat, unapologetic in his gaze. Gaspard had flirted back, subtly. Grabbing at Jean’s fingers as he passed the refilled glass, spreading his legs as he shifted in his chair. Both men at a sexual impasse.

Gaspard stood and announced he needed to piss, pulling at the ties of his breeches as he stood infront of the chamber pot. He felt hands wrapping about his own. Jean tugging the thicker fingers away and pulling the laces from their rings.

“Do tell me if you want me to stop.” Jean whispered as he lined up behind Gaspard, tugging out his cock and letting it sit in his hands. He pulled back the man’s foreskin and felt him sigh as he heard the tell tale noise of the man relieving himself. Jean peppered kisses against the man’s clothed back, shaking the man off and wiping his finger over the head of his cock. He redressed the man and stepped back, allowing the samite gown to fall fully from his body. He stood with his legs wide and his thumbs tucked into the hem of his breeches, pulling them down ever so slightly to reveal pointing hip bones.

Gaspard turned to face Jean. The two men devoured one another as they stood a mere step apart, Gaspard having the advantage of still wearing his mask. Jean knelt and pulled at the ties of his boots, standing to kick them both off one by one. Losing a few inches in height which left him considerably shorter than the Emperor. Gaspard pulled his armour off, piece by piece, depositing it carefully on his own chair before standing before Jean once more. Jean toed off his socks, laughing at Gaspard’s indignant scoff. In return he pulled off his belt, the sash, leather waist trim, and fennec fur adornment falling with it. Next Jean’s breeches were tossed across the room, Gaspard’s doublet fell to the floor, and Jean slipped from his underthings, leaving him naked in front of the new Emperor.

“It seems we started in an unfair position.” Gaspard hummed, shifting his weight and folding his arms.

“It seems so,” Jean whispered as he closed the gap between them, fingers landing on the other man’s arms to tug them open, “perhaps you would take a care to rectify this mistake, lest your honour as a Chevalier be muddied.” Jean reached up and gently pulled the mask from his face, biting his lips to retain his smile. Gaspard swept his hands up and over his hair, slicking it back into position. Jean placed the mask on top of Gaspard’s abandoned armour, he made a show of bolting the door shut before he stood in front of Gaspard once more. He pulled his tunic from his breeches, unclasping the collar and lifting it over Gaspard’s head, the man was littered with long pink scars against his pale flesh. His shoulders were dotted with pockmarks which fell across his back and sides too. Jean paid them no attention as he knelt in front of the man, loosening the straps on his greaves before slipping off his boots.

Jean’s hands massaged the man’s calves as he tugged the tightened ribbon there loose, kissing up his clothed thighs and untying his breeches so he could step from them. He stood once more, letting Gaspard toe off his socks and pull his own underthings off.

Both men stared at each other, a smile upturning their lips as their eyes roamed over the other’s body. Gaspard raised his hand first, placing at gently along Jean’s jawline as he pulled him into a kiss. It was slow at first, the simple press of lips against lips, and it made Jean’s gut curl delightfully. Especially when Gaspard’s other hand gripped his waist and dipped the other man, deepening the kiss with tongues and open mouths. Jean hummed as he dragged his manicured nails down Gaspard’s chest, tugging at the fine hairs there, and pricking against his pebbled nipples. Gaspard twitched with the sensation, his hips thrusting lightly at the pleasure. Jean rolled the tips of his fingers over them, pinching lightly between his thumb and forefinger before gently pressuring them again.

He could feel Gaspard’s hardening cock against his belly, nudging at the sculpted muscle. He reached down with one hand, letting his thumb roll over the tip and pressing the foreskin back to expose the sensitive head. Gaspard grumbled low in his throat as Jean began to run his hand over the length. His own cock reacting to Gaspard’s pleasured noises.

Jean pulled away, tucking his face into the crook of Gaspard’s neck and sucking at his collarbone. Gaspard held him there with one hand tangled in his curling locks. Jean felt Gaspard’s other hand fall to the swell of his arse, gripping at the plump flesh and tugging it. He gasped at the sensation, his hips bucking backwards into the large palm and thick fingers before rolling forward into the heat of the other man’s cock. Gaspard let out a breathy laugh, pulling him up for another kiss and grabbing either side of Jean’s arse and spreading them. He gripped them harshly, rolling the mounds in his hands before picking him up. Jean gasped as he was spun around and pressed against the wall, his legs tangling behind Gaspard’s back and moaning at the way he massaged his body.

He moaned heavily as his cock was squashed between their bellies and Gaspard’s own, the friction ever so delightful. Jean kissed the man roughly, his hands roaming across the expanse of Gaspard’s back and tugging at his hair to direct the kiss. Jean gasped as he was pulled away from the wall and dropped onto the bed, the mattress below him sinking under his weight. Gaspard crawled over him, kissing up the valley of his chest and sucking red marks over the man’s skin. He grunted loudly as he shuffled back and situated himself in the centre of the bed. Gaspard hooked Jean’s legs over his own as he knelt opposite him, planting kisses over the man’s chest and sucking a nipple into his mouth.

“Watch your ankles, Your Radiance.” Jean laughed at the sensation, rolling his hips and using his weight to push Gaspard back on the bed. Gaspard felt the air rush from his lungs as Jean landed on top of him. “Let me ride you.” He whispered, letting his tongue curl against the shell of Gaspard’s ear.

“We need oil.” He breathed, his hand pulling Jean’s hair and kissing him thoroughly. He thrust their hips together, their cocks dragging along one another between their bellies.

“I have,” Jean started as Gaspard interrupted him with a kiss. “Some in,” another kiss, “My satchel.” Jean hummed as he untangled himself and grabbed at the leather bag. Tugging it onto the bed and onto Gaspard’s chest, he rifled through it. He muttered as he shifted a few things out of the way before he pulled out a small vial, placing it carefully in Gaspard’s hand before locking his bag and dropping it to the floor. He sat back astride the man and wiggled his hips until he was comfy enough.

“This smells like…” Gaspard said as he uncorked the vial.

“It has some extra herbs in for sensation.” He whispered huskily, rolling the small bottle between his palms quickly to warm it. He placed his forefinger over the opening and tipped the bottle upside down momentarily. Jean held the bottle in his other hand as he dotted the oil over Gaspard’s nipples, he blew on them gently and watched as the man twitched under him, jolting as the slight tingle of pleasure.

“This is-” he breathed.

“A lot better on your cock.” Jean moaned as he spread some more over his fingers, warming it between the digits before wrapping his wet hand around Gaspard’s cock. He thumbed at the head and kissed over Gaspard’s chest as the man writhed underneath him. Gaspard grabbed for the vial in Jean’s hand, tipping it over his fingers and losing the bottle in the bedsheets. He quickly pulled him to his chest and spread Jean’s arse cheeks to circle his entrance with a finger. He moaned loudly as he felt the first finger enter him, rolling his hips quicker and fucking himself on the digit.

“It is better inside, yes?” He breathed, his voice a low rumble as he quickly pressed in a second. Jean gasped as he thrust his hips harder, his hands abandoning Gaspard’s cock in favour of curling the bedsheets either side of the man’s head. He rode his fingers for a while, letting him press in a third, almost orgasming as the oil electrified his insides.

“Please. Your Grace,” He grunted, he could feel himself starting to sweat, his hair falling damp against his skin. “Give me your cock.” He moaned. Gaspard whimpered at the command, slipping his fingers from the younger man and grabbing for his cock. Jean shuffled forward, and directed the heated flesh inside of him, gasping as he was stretched over the thick member. He whimpered as he felt his arse connect with Gaspard’s hips, fully impaled on him. He sat for a while his chest heaving as Gaspard pulled him down to kiss him. Their mouths open and wet as they moaned down each other’s throats.

“Say my name.” Gaspard grunted as Jean rolled his hips, rising a few inches before falling back down. He rode him slowly at first, his body relaxing against the foreign phallus. His thrusts became heavier and faster, rising quicker and dropping harder with every gyration of his hips. Gaspard moaned and gasped beneath him, his hands clasped in Jean’s hair, keeping him close as they fucked. Jean felt Gaspard’s cock slip out of him twice, groaning as he quickly sat back upon the cock and continued riding him at an extraordinary pace. Gaspard gripped at Jean’s arse, spreading his cheeks wide as he thrust into him more forcefully. Jean bouncing with every movement. He pulled out slowly, dragging his cock across his insides and slamming back in forcefully. Jean’s fingers threaded through Gaspard’s hair, gripping it tightly as he arched, he whimpered the Emperor’s name on every thrust.

“Look at me.” Gaspard commanded in breathy tones. Jean forced his eyes open, gazing deep into Gaspard’s own, his pupil’s blown wide, and his face dotted with sweat. Gaspard huffed quickly as his hips began to move erratically, the new pace filling Jean with pleasure. He grunted as he felt Gaspard empty his seed inside of him, his mouth falling open as he threw his head back with a echoing moan. Jean whimpered as Gaspard grabbed for his cock, tugging him quickly with a sweaty and oiled hand, bringing him to completion as his member softened inside of him. Jean’s orgasm was guttural, spilling over Gaspard’s chest in thick whitening stripes between them both. Gaspard pulled him once more into a softening kiss, both men gasping for breath through gentle lips. Jean whimpered as he pulled himself off of Gaspard, his softened cock falling from his body and letting his seed slip from the other man. Jean pressed his fingers to his entrance, stopping it from spilling too heavily onto the sheets.

He lay tense next to the Emperor, unsure of how to proceed as some men and women were adverse to affections. Gaspard was not one of them. He tugged Jean over him, pulling his head to his chest as he sucked in air greedily. The two men lay in silence for a while, their steady breathing lulling them to sleep. Jean’s memory jolted him awake, Gaspard huffing at the quick movement.

“I hardly wish to kick you out of bed, Your Grace, but I do believe the Emperor should not be found in a bed such as mine. Especially tonight.” Jean whispered, his fingers dancing nervously across Gaspard’s chest.

“You are undoubtedly correct, though let me stay a while.” He hummed, pulling Jean in for another kiss.

“Just staying, or do you plan on having me entertain you again?”

“If I could, Jean-Esmeral, do not doubt that I would.”

“Shame you pissed in the aquae lucidius, it’s a potent aphrodisiac.” He whispered, his hand trailing over Gaspard’s sensitive cock. He slapped the curious fingers away and tugged the man closer.

“Another time perhaps.”

**Author's Note:**

> Qunlat: Ala atot ensaam bas ta vashe-qalab Celene asaara, eba'sala salam'ost, lok.
> 
> Rough Translation: I will tell our common the bullshit Celene breathes, they will see your truth, friend.
> 
> \------
> 
> Thank you for reading friendos. (ʃƪ ˘ ³˘) ♥


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